


Sounding It Out

by Barkour



Series: Fe [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life of Abigail Ferria Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sounding It Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is very silly and very self-indulgent, and it is absolutely 100% kid fic and everything that entails. It's twee. Very twee. Everything's twee.
> 
> The song referenced is "Iron Man" by Black Sabbath.
> 
> Fixed a stray symbol that had erased about 400 words from the middle. My sincerest apologies to those who read the messed up version!

Daddy was in the OK lab and not the Bad Unsafe Abby Stay Out or _Else_ lab, the one even Jarvis wouldn't let her into. She got up on her tiptoes and stuck her hand on the reading plate, and when the door started to slide open she wriggled through before it got all the way clear.

He was at his work bench, with a whole lot of fiddly stuff in front of him and his back to her. Abby slid forward easy-peasy on her socks, quieter than a mouse even. Mommy said if you got Daddy in the ribs he laughed like a donkey, and Abby had never heard a donkey laugh but she was pretty sure it was funny, since Daddy had said, "Don't tell her that; you're going to give her weird ideas. Stop giving her weird ideas."

Jarvis said, "Miss Abigail is present."

"Aw!" Abby slumped and glared up at the ceiling. She was almost at the bench, too. "Stupid Jarvis."

Daddy turned around. He'd his work goggles on; now he pulled them up into his hair, darker than Abby's hair which was darker than Mommy's shiny hair, shiny like copper wire.

"Were you sneaking up on me?" he demanded. "Were you trying to scare me? You little sneak?"

"I'm not little," she said, as Daddy reached out and hooked her waist with his arm. "And dumb old Jarvis spoiled it."

Daddy got her up on his thigh. "Yeah, well," he said, jogging her once, "dumb old Jarvis doesn't want you to get hurt. Don't sneak up on me when I'm at the table, you know that, honey."

"This is the safe lab," she told him. "You're not supposed to have blow up stuff in here."

He thumped her chest. "It was a general statement, you have to recognize proper lab safety protocols, it's a policy. Also, you're four."

"And a _half_ ," she said. "I'm four and a _half_ and I'm almost five."

"Oh, excuse me," said Daddy, "I didn't know. Almost five? Wow. Really. We're gonna have to get you your own goggles soon so you can come down here and work with me."

Abby tipped her head back and tried to grab at Daddy's nose; she got it between her fingers. Daddy made a funny face at her, eyes crossed and his tongue out, and his hair all silly around the goggles. 

"I'm already working with you, dummy head," Abby said. "That's why I'm here. I'm gonna help."

"Did you just call me a dummy head?" Daddy made an angry face at her, all his teeth showing but his eyes still crossed. "What--are you laughing? Are you laughing at me?"

"No-o-o-o," said Abby, and she tried to get her thumb in his nose. He caught her hand though and pulled it down, and Abby slumped against his chest because sometimes Daddy wasn't any fun. She looked at the table instead, even as Daddy bounced her on his leg again, and thought about how pretty it all was, all the wires in the back and that long board in the front.

"That's old," she said.

"Pretty old," he agreed. "Older than you."

She scowled at the table. "I'm old. I'm lots old. Lots older than you."

"Hm," said Daddy. "Is that how that works? Jarvis, is that how that works?"

"I believe so, sir," said Jarvis, and Abby laughed again.

"See! I told you!"

"And I'm telling you," said Daddy, "that little kids shouldn't make fun of their old man, unless they want to spend the night on the roof."

"I wanna sleep on the roof!" She craned around to look at him again. "Can I sleep on the roof? Can I do it?"

Daddy squinted like he was thinking about it. "Sure. But we're going to have to strap you down, so you won't roll off. You want rope or chains?"

"Glue," said Abby. "Superglue. So I have to stay up there forever."

Daddy threw his hand up. "Why, why would you want to live on the roof--"

"'Cause of the stars," Abby said. "And the birds. Can I help?" She leaned forward against his arm, still firm around her belly, and tried to snag the little tool thingy he used.

"Hold on there, short stack." 

Daddy reeled her back in. Abby kicked and struggled, but Daddy's arm was a lot bigger than her arm, and besides, she liked sitting with him on the bench. He snagged the goggles off his head and freed her, unwinding his arm from her waist, only to pull the goggles down over her eyes. She blinked, adjusting to the new tint everything took on, as Daddy pulled on the straps, tightening the goggles around her head.

"There you go," he said. "You know how to do this?"

"Duh," said Abby. "We've done it lots and lots and lots and lots and--"

"All right, you don't have to--"

"Lots and lots and lots!" she finished, loudly.

"Are you done?" Daddy asked. He turned his head down to stare at her. "Are you finished now? Can we work or do you have more you feel you have to share before we start?"

"I'm done," said Abby, then: "And lots and _lots_."

"Well, since you have so much experience," said Daddy, "why don't you start?"

Abby sat up straighter. The board gleamed. It was like a game, like the funny board game with the maze that she and Mommy played, and just like with that game she could see how it was supposed to go, where she could put this piece so the next piece would fit in with it.

"But you gotta watch _close_ ," she said. "'Cause you gotta pay attention, if you wanna learn."

"You're the boss," said Daddy, and he tugged lightly on her hair, pulling it back from her face as she leaned over the board.

"Mommy's the boss."

He was tying her hair back. "That's right. Mommy's the boss."

"But then _I'm_ the boss." She leaned closer, nose almost to the board, and she was thinking, thinking, thinking.

"So what am I?"

"You're daddy," said Abby.

"I was thinking more like, 'a hero,'" said Daddy. "'Savior of the world.' 'The man who revolutionized peace.'"

" _Daddy_ ," said Abby, "I'm _working_."

"Excuse me," said Daddy. He tapped his fingers against her back, dum-dum-dum, like that old song that was named after Daddy, Iron Man. "Please, don't let me get in the way. I know how annoying that is when someone keeps interrupting you when you're working." He ruffled her hair up top, and his hand smoothed down the back of her head, over the ponytail and down again to her spine.

Abby hummed the song-- _or if he moos will he fall_ \--and carefully, steadily, she traced out her first line.

*

Daddy carried her upstairs, upside down over his shoulder so her hair got in her face.

"It's 'if he moves, will he fall.' Why would he moo?"

"'Cause he's a cow," said Abby to Daddy's back. "Duh."

"That's not--that's ridiculous." He flipped her up off his shoulder, catching her in his arms. He hefted her up again onto his hip. "Do you even understand how ridiculous that is?"

Abby hooked her arm behind his neck so she could pick at the short, bristle-y hair there. She wondered if cows had hair like that or if it was soft like Mommy's hair or if maybe they didn't have any hair at all.

"It's 'cause he's a cow and he can't see."

"I'm not arguing with you about this," Daddy said.

Abby laughed and tried to stand up on Daddy's hip, and Daddy grunted. 

"Yes, you are," she said. "Daddy, do cows have hair?"

"I don't know," he said, "why don't you ask Jarvis?" He swung her up so she was laid across both his arms, and then he dropped her onto the couch and Abby laughed all the way down. 

"And sit here." Daddy stuck his finger at her. "And--stay. Stay there."

Abby kicked at him but Daddy was already walking to the kitchen, right next door to the living room.

"Can I watch TV?"

"No TV!" Daddy yelled.

"Jarvis," said Abby, "can I watch TV?"

"I'm afraid that's outside my jurisdiction," said Jarvis. "My sincere apologies, Miss Abigail."

"I wanna watch TV!" Abby shouted. "I wanna watch Barbie!"

"Read a book!" Daddy shouted right back. "What do you want for lunch!"

Abby frowned at the dumb sleepy TV and thought about it. "I wanna an omelet and Barbie!"

The fridge opened; it made that funny suction noise, like the lab door sliding open. Like Star Trek, which Daddy said was historically significant because of its inspirational effect on the field of science, and Mommy said proved that Daddy was a nerd.

"You want Barbie in the omelet or on top of it?"

"Gross," said Abby. She rolled off the couch and crawled to the corner table with its humongous stack of books. "That's _cabalism_."

"Cannibalism," Daddy corrected. "But technically it's not really--she's not a real human, so it doesn't count. Do you want ketchup?"

"Ketchup and chhhhilllliiii," she sang. "Chili, chili, chili."

"Well, your mom's not gonna eat it," Daddy muttered. The stove’s gas flicked on.

Abby dragged a Berenstain Bears out of the stack, v-e-r-y slowly so all the rest of the books didn't go falling down and making a big mess that Daddy would make her clean up 'cause of _personal responsibility_.

"Mommy's at work," she said. "She's got a te-le-con-fer-ence."

"Good job," Daddy said, and she bet for sure he was smiling. He had a smiley voice. "You got it. What's a teleconference?"

"Boring," said Abby.

"Excellent job," said Daddy. "That's my girl. Stick with the science, stay out of communications. That's Mommy's job. Did you find a book? Is it appropriate? You didn't grab one of Mommy's books?"

Abby ran her fingers up the page till it buckled and she could turn it. 

"I got Bears."

"Oh, yeah? Is it a fun one? Exciting?"

She wiggled her toes. 

"I dunno," she said, tracing Papa Bear's face with her finger. "Words are harder than numbers. I wanna watch TV instead. Can I watch Barbie?"

"No, no Barbie," said Daddy. "Reading's hard but you gotta do it. You want to be a well-rounded grown-up, right?"

"No-o-o," said Abby. She rolled over onto her back and held the book up over her head. "I wanna be a cat."

"Well, we'll talk about it with Mommy when she gets back from work," said Daddy. "We can figure out a ten year plan."

She let Daddy cook while she puzzled out what g-i-f-t-e-d spelled. "Sound it out," is what Mommy said, so softly Abby said _guh, eye, eff_ but that didn't make any sense at all, so instead she thought: seven letters, and G was the seventh letter in the alphabet, and that was good; that was nice. T was the twentieth letter but I was the ninth letter, and nine was not half of twenty so that _wasn't_ nice; that made a leftover. If the I were a J then it would be neat-- She thought g-j-f-t-e-d, _guh-juh_ , J-i-f for peanut butter was _jif_ \--

"I got it!" She threw the book aside and clambered up the couch. "I got the word!"

"You did?" Daddy scraped the omelet off the pan and onto a Disney Princess plate, the blue Cinderella one she liked best. "What's the word?"

" _Gifted_ ," Abby said proudly. "G-I-F-T-E-D. It's got seven letters and G's the seventh letter."

"Well, that's a really good word. Cheese?" He raised his eyebrows. "You want to get over here and eat this thing?"

"And more chili," Abby said, and she went over to Daddy. He'd made a big pool of ketchup for her on the middle of the plate, and an angry face on the omelet that scowled up at her and made her giggle.

"Eat up, munchkin," Daddy said. He snapped the towel at her. "You're too short. You need to get bigger, or we're going to lose you behind the couch."

She pulled the omelet apart with her hands and started swiping the pieces through the ketchup. Daddy was making his own lunch, an energy shake and an omelet of his own and two cold sandwiches, when the special alarm went off on his phone. The stove clicked off; he turned away from Abby to answer the phone. Abby sucked the ketchup and the cheese from her fingertips, and she stared at what was left of the angry face Daddy had made for her.

"No," Daddy said in a low down voice. "Right, I know--I'm auxiliary. You've got Rhodey, you've got that new kid, Victor Mancha. No--yes, that is what I'm saying. You don't need me." His voice picked up. "I'm watching my kid--no, she's not in school, and that's not the point, that's not relevant--"

Abby hunched her shoulders up and stuffed a ginormous piece of omelet into her mouth and chewed, chewed, chewed, so loudly she couldn't hear anything except her own chewing and how fast her heart was going. She ripped off another chunk and stuck that in too before she'd even finished the first big piece, and then she was chewing for forever, so long she didn't even hear when Daddy brought his lunch to the table.

"You okay there?" Daddy asked. He was smiling, his crinkly smile that made the corners of his eyes fold up. "Don't choke yourself."

She swallowed the last bit and took a deep breath. Her heart was still going too fast, like a racecar. She took another breath and said, "Do you gotta go?"

Daddy took a huge Daddy bite of his sandwich. "Go where? Where am I going?"

Abby squirmed and peeled small fragments off the back half of her omelet. She'd got egg under her fingernails and ketchup on her knuckles. Her thumbnail caught on her fingertip.

"To work with Uncle Rhodey," she mumbled, "and Mister Bruce."

"Why would I do that?" Daddy swallowed, and he set his sandwich down. "I gotta look after you."

"I'm big," Abby said, "and Jarvis can watch, and you don't have to stay."

"Well, first," said Daddy, and he tipped his head down to eyeball her, "yes, I do, because you're four, four and a half, and Jarvis can't drive you to the hospital if you blow up my lab, that was the second thing, and the third thing is I want to stay here so you just have to get used to it." He paused and then he added, " _Abigail Ferria_ ," like that was that.

She guessed maybe she should have felt better after that, but her eyes still hurt and so did her nose, and she scrunched down, trying to hide her face in her chest, behind her hair.

"You don't have to," she said. "I don't wanna be in the way."

"Hey," said Daddy. He stretched across the corner of the table and tapped her chin with one worn finger. "Hey. Look at me, kid. Right here. Head up, no hiding."

Reluctantly she lifted her chin, just a little, and only because Daddy's finger was warm and his hand was steady. Her nose still burned, eyes too, and she wrinkled up her whole face because she wasn't a _crybaby_.

"Okay," said Daddy. "C'mere."

And Abby did; she struggled over from her chair to sit in Daddy's chair by him, even though it meant one of his legs went off the other side. He slung his arm around her and shook her against him, and tucked up by him, Abby hid her burning face in his shirt and wrapped her arm as far around his chest as she could get it.

"You're not in the way," he told her. "You are very important, to me and to Mommy, and that's why I stay home to look after you. Plus, hey, I don't have to pay you to help me out in the lab."

"You pay me," said Abby.

"That's piggy bank talk," said Daddy, "that's not a real paycheck, that's like your baby's first 401k. Never mind. Don't worry about it. But you're good. You're a good kid. You're a better kid than I was. And you need to finish eating so you can take a nap."

"I don't wanna," she said to his ribs. "I don't need a nap."

"You definitely need a nap," said Daddy. "You finish eating, and then--"

"Can I watch Barbie?"

Daddy sighed, very deep up from his chest. "Yeah, okay, you eat and then we watch Barbie and then you take a nap."

Abby wiped at the ketchup smear she'd left on his t-shirt and said, "Okay," but she stayed with her arm around him and her cheek against his side until he'd finished his first sandwich, and then she got up enough to kiss his shoulder--Daddy leaned down and said, "Oh, no cheek?"--and then she went back to her own chair.

"You're taking a nap," Daddy warned her. She'd left an eggy smudge on his shoulder.

"After Barbie," said Abby, and she laughed at the face he made at her.

*

She was sleeping, and as she was sleeping she dreamed, and what Abby dreamed was that Mommy knelt by Abby's bed and brushed the hair back from Abby's face and then kissed her softly on her eyebrow. Mommy's hand was gentle on her cheek; she brushed Abby's ear, and kissed her again, and then she was gone.

Abby stretched and squinted: her bedroom door was open and Mommy's perfume, like new roses, clung to Abby's cheek. She rubbed at her eyes. The dream had gone. In another, distant room low murmurs called to her. Trailing her blankie and rubbing again at her eyes, she went out looking for them.

"She needs to go to school. She needs friends her age--"

"And that's fine, I get that, we can start a daycare--"

" _Tony_." That was Mommy, using her Daddy-is-silly-but-I-love-him voice.

"I just don't think it's safe for her to go to some regular school with regular teachers and regular security guards, not when she's my daughter."

"She's my daughter, too, Tony," said Mommy. "We'll give her my name for school. Tony, will you please look at me? I want her to be safe, too, but we can't keep her caged up here for the rest of her life."

Abby dragged her hand along the wall, following Mommy's exasperated voice and Daddy's pacing footsteps all the way back to the living room.

"Who's caged up? She's not caged up. We go out all the time. We went to the zoo last week, all three of us. You had fun, too, I remember that."

Mommy sighed. "I love her, too."

"I know you do," said Daddy, and he meant it. "I'm not saying you don't. But Pepper, we can't just send her out there."

"Yes, we can," said Mommy. "There are special schools."

"Boarding schools. I know. I went to one. Three."

"Not a boarding school," said Mommy sharply. "But a private school nearby, with real security. We'll enroll her with my name, and we'll both be close in case she needs us. You can make her something with Jarvis--a watch--"

A loud thumping noise: Abby was at the doorway; she saw Daddy drop onto the couch next to Mommy.

"And what if the other kids don't like her?"

Mommy reached for Daddy; she cupped his face, one hand on each cheek, and she pressed her forehead against his.

"Tony," said Mommy, as Daddy closed his eyes and leaned against Mommy, "it wasn't easy for me, either. Do you have any idea how jealous I was that you get to stay home with her all day?"

Daddy snorted. "You wanted to be a homemaker?"

"No," said Mommy, smiling, "but I was still jealous. Especially when I couldn't take her into work with me anymore."

Daddy was quiet at that. His shoulders rose and fell: he took a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

"She'll be okay," Mommy said. She stroked her fingers up and down Daddy's cheek, tracing the shape of his face. "You turned out okay."

Daddy snorted even louder and opened his eyes to squint at her.

"Eventually," Mommy said, laughingly.

Daddy smiled, and then, turning to rest his head on Mommy's shoulder, he spotted Abby hanging back at the doorway, the corner of her blankie around her thumb and the tip of her thumb between her teeth.

"You're supposed to be in bed," Daddy said, straightening.

"Oh, no," Mommy said, "did I wake you up?"

Abby jogged over to them and got up onto the couch, squeezing between Mommy and Daddy and curling up there.

"I had a dream," Abby said. She pressed her head against Mommy's chest, so Mommy pulled her closer.

Mommy kissed Abby's temple through her dark hair. Mommy wore her own hair in a neat bun, not loose, but when Abby closed her eyes she imagined Mommy's hair was sweeping over Abby's face, that it kissed her too.

"I missed you," Abby said.

"Traitor," said Daddy.

Abby stretched her legs out across his lap and stuck her foot in his belly. Daddy _oof_ ed and caught her foot; he tickled her toes.

"I missed you, too," Mommy said. She was smiling down at Abby, and her face was flecked with so many freckles like stars, more even than Abby had, as many as Abby wanted. Abby reached up and traced a constellation across Mommy's cheek: twelve stars, coiled like a length of copper around her finger.

"Did you have a good day?" Abby asked.

"I had a very good day," said Mommy. "I had a _very_ productive conversation with the manager of Stark Dallas about the difference between minimum wage and livable wage, and the conditions of his job."

"Your mother made him cry," said Daddy.

"I did not," said Mommy, and she slapped Daddy's shoulder. "I did not make him cry. But I wouldn't have minded if he did."

"It's not nice," Abby said. Her eyelids were heavy; her head felt fuzzy and thick, like a swollen caterpillar.

"Well, he wasn't very nice," Mommy said. "And anyway, I'm just glad to be home again. Did you have a good day?"

Abby hummed, mm-hmm, mm-hmm.

"She helped in the lab, and she was a great assistant. The best assistant I've ever had." Daddy squeezed Abby's foot. "She didn't get in the way at all."

"Oh, _well_ ," said Mommy, and her voice was sweet and far away. "Maybe I should take her in to work with me tomorrow. My secretary's sick and I could use a great assistant."

"Trying to steal my workers from me, huh? That corporate mindset's taken over, Miss Potts."

"And whose fault is that?" Mommy teased. "Mister Stark, formerly of Stark Industries?"

"Blaming other people for your own mistakes," said Daddy. "That's very me of you. Very classic me. I'm impressed. Kind of a little turned on."

"She's sleeping," Mommy scolded, but she was still laughing.

"So put her back to bed."

"One kiss," said Mommy. "That's all you get."

In Abby's dream, Mommy and Daddy leaned close and kissed, and it wasn't gross at all; it was nice and it was neat, like when numbers came together just right. Abby stretched her arms up, up, up to the sky, so her hands blocked the sun out, and when she brought her arms down again the night sky was full of stars, a hundred thousand stars, more stars than she could ever count.

"Try anyway," Mommy said, and her hair was loose and brighter than copper, brighter than gold, shining all around Abby.

Daddy put his hand on Abby's head and made a mess of her hair and he said, "Taking risks is part of the job."

And Mommy said, "Sound it out," so Abby said: one for Mommy, two for Daddy, three for Abby, four for Uncle Rhodey and five for Mister Bruce, six for Miss 'Tasha, seven for Mister Steve...

The stars went on and on, and so did Abby, and Mommy was with her and Daddy was, too, and they counted with her, so that when she faltered they held her up and she could start again.

When she woke up again with her head in Mommy's lap--Mommy laughing at something Daddy was singing--she couldn't remember what she'd dreamed, but she thought it must have been nice, almost as nice as how Mommy said, "Hello, sleepyhead," and pinched the tip of her nose.

"Is she up?" Daddy called. "You missed dinner. You have to eat scraps!"

"You didn't miss dinner," Mommy told her. "Did you have a good dream?"

Abby yawned and said, "I don't remember."

"Well, I hope you did," said Mommy. She swept the bangs out of Abby's eyes. "Do you want read a book?"

"Will you read it?"

Mommy cinched her mouth to one side, considering it. 

"We'll read it together," she said at last. "You can be my assistant. Like with Daddy."

"Okay," said Abby, and she pointed to the Bears book still on the floor. "That one."

"Then let's read that one together," said Mommy.

In the kitchen, Daddy was singing: _if he moos will he fall?_ and Mommy laughed again.

"The line is 'if he moves,' sir," said Jarvis.

"Incorrect," said Daddy, migrating from the kitchen to the living room, "that's a, uh--what's it called--Pepper?"

"Um--what, when you hear the lyric wrong?"

"Yeah, that, there's a word for it, and it's right here, I've almost got it, but can you just help me out--"

"A mondegreen?" Mommy said.

"Yes!" Daddy clapped his hands and leaned over the back of the couch, over Abby. "Thank you. You're a lifesaver. As always, Miss Potts." He bussed Mommy, kissing her once quickly on the mouth as a smile flicked across her lips.

"But why," Mommy said, half-laughing, "is he mooing?"

"'Cause he's a cow," said Abby, and Daddy said, "Yeah. Because he's a cow," and he winked at Abby.

Abby blinked back at him very seriously, and Daddy covered his eyes with his hand and laughed and laughed while Mommy said, "A _cow_?" with her arms around Abby's shoulders; and Abby still couldn't remember what her dream had been, but she knew it couldn't have been as wonderful as this.


End file.
